by M. N. Forgy
Her eyes are closed as she rocks back and forth on the cold floor with every thrust. Her cheeks flush, and hair of brown and pink splay around her like a dark angel.
“Excuse me?” the wife says with disgust. “Are you guys serious?”
“Shut up!” Harley yells, pleasure thick in her voice causing her to sound raspy.
Gently I cup her neck as my dick pulses inside of her. This bitch is mine, she said it herself. She gave herself to me, and my next step is going to be taking that fucking gavel from her old man.
She just doesn’t know it yet.
Looking between our heated bodies, I watch as my cock slides in and out of her pussy lips. Her wetness coating my dick. Her pink cunt, squeezing, and milking my length so fucking good.
“You like that cock?”
“God, yes.” She rocks against me.
Her face scrunches, her body tensing as she’s about to come. Her fiery eyes look up at me, her mouth parting as she tenses beneath me. The sight of her coming undone unravels me and I swirl my hips as I rock into her harder. My cock pumping every drop of cum I have to offer right inside of her.
Out of breath, she looks directly at me. Her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. Her tongue slides along her lips, wetting them.
She glances at the wife and her cheeks turn the brightest shade of red from embarrassment. So lost in the moment, she didn’t really think about fucking in front of a stranger.
Quickly, she uses her elbows to sit up, shyness creeping into her eyes. I shimmy off my cut to help cover her and to keep her warm, as I lean over and grab her dress I threw in the corner.
Pulling my jeans up, I risk taking a glance at the wife. She’s so red in the face it’s humorous.
“Sorry, we could have fucked in your bed, but when the moment hits… it hits,” I chuckle.
“Brother?” Harley and I look to a familiar voice.
Viper stands in the doorway with a gun in his hand, looking like the fucking police. His blond hair a mess as if he’s been running his hands through it anxiously. He’s wearing his cut and a black shirt with holes all in it. His jeans the same.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” My brows furrow in question.
He whips his gun in my direction and when he sees me, his shoulders relax and he lowers the .45.
“Fuck, man.” He’s angry. “I’ve been trying to call you. You had me scared to death something fucking happened!”
“How’d you find us?” Harley asks, standing up. Now fully dressed.
He points to me. “Dipshit’s, phone.” I scowl at him. He looks down at the dead body and then to June. “Fuuuck.” He looks amused. His eyes bloodshot and dilated from drugs.
“Seriously, why are you here?” I ask again.
He shakes his head, his hand raising to rub at his chin.
“Word has it you went rogue, brother. Grudge is telling everyone you went against code and shit. I knew it wasn’t true, so I had to find you, make sure you were still breathing.”
Biting my bottom lip, I point at him at a loss for words. Grudge is going against me and it stings.
“It’s not true,” I clip. Raising my hand, I rub at my chin, staring Viper down. He has to know I would never turn my back on my club. Grudge, yes, but not my club. Grudge is playing a dangerous game trying to throw me under the bus. He wants to get rid of me because he wants to get rid of Harley because she’s a threat to him. But with me around, that will never happen.
“My dad… he’s forgotten the creed of our club,” Harley whispers, the sadness in her voice makes my chest constrict. She’s tough, but I hate that she has to be that way.
I raise a brow and rub the back of my neck as I look the group over. “We’ll deal with him when we get back to the club.”
“What are we going to do with her?” Viper asks, nodding his head at June.
Looking at her, I exhale a deep breath. Taped to the chair she continues to look at her dead husband, the high heel still sticking out of his head morbidly.
“Use her as bait,” Harley insists, her voice now with confidence. “Her dad did fuck us over, you already got this far, might as well play it out, babe.” I approve. Harley needs this. She needs to see what we do on runs, see if this is where she wants her place in the club to be.
Harley steps over to the professor and digs in his pocket a second before pulling out a black phone. Her hand shakes, and she keeps her head as far away as she can from the dead body. I can tell just by looking at her, she’s not ready for this kind of shit. She wants to be a part of the club, but when it comes to this shit… she’s not going to be around it. Not if I can help it.
I know she won’t sit behind the counter and sling drinks to the boys, and I don’t want her to, but I also don’t want bloodshed on my woman’s hands. She deserves better than that.
“What are you doing with that?” Viper looks confused.
Ignoring Viper, Harley takes a picture of the scene before us. June taped to a chair, her hair and face a fucking wreck. A broken chair splintered all over the floor next to her, and her husband dead in a cold pool of blood. A black and red heel sticking out of his skull. His eyes are open and mouth agape.
It’s pretty fucking gruesome looking.
The clicking noise makes June look away and she continues to weep.
“I sent the picture to the contact governor, texted him told him to pay up or she’s next. He’ll know who he needs to pay,” she informs, handing me the phone.
My mouth goes slack with the wits of this bitch, she’s constantly surprising me. I put it in my pocket and run my hand over my sweaty forehead.
“I bet he owes a lot of people money,” Viper scoffs, crossing his arms.
“This is fucking ridiculous,” June huffs. “How much could he possibly owe for you to do something like this?” Her wide glossy eyes fall to each one of us. “You’re all animals. Fucking animals!” She begins to lose her shit.
“Doesn’t matter how much he owes, it’s about the respect.” My tone dry.
She rolls her eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks. Turning away from her I look to Viper.
“Until the dad pays up, take my car, Harley, and this bitch back to the club. I have a mess to clean up,” I inform. In a neighborhood like this, it’s only a matter of time before someone gets nosy and calls the cops.
“Wait, you want me to go without you?” Harley looks at me with confusion wrinkling her face. Her eyes wide, and mouth parted beautifully. I don’t want to be away from her either, but it’s safer this way.
“Yes, it’s not safe. The governor could retaliate or the cops could show up. I want you at the club. I’ll be there soon after.” I toss her my keys and she catches them with confused eyes. “Follow Viper back to the club.”
“What about my stuff at the dorm?”
“You mean your gun?” I glower at her, and her face falls.
“I’ll get everything. Nobody will know you were even there,” I tell her. I’m not good at a lot of shit, but making people disappear is one thing I excel in.
“But this is my mess, I should help,” Harley insists, ignoring June.
Grabbing her by the neck, I kiss her on the forehead.
“I’ve been cleaning up your messes since we were kids, Harley.”
21
Benji
Wiping my forehead with the back of my hand, I drop the shovel to the mound of freshly patted dirt and fall to my ass. Out of breath and shirt sticking to my sweaty chest, I pull my top off and throw it to the side.
“Fuck, it’s hot.” Digging in my back pocket, I pull out a smashed joint. With everything that has happened in the last twenty-four hours, I need something to take the edge off. Licking my fingertips, I try and straighten it back out as much as I can. The smell of skunk and green making my mouth water, I light the fucker and rip the biggest drag from it and blow it into the night sky. Falling back on the grave of the professor, I look at the stars.
Me as the pre
sident of the Shadow Keepers. I smile, the image of Harley by my side as I sweep the streets of Arizona with sin and respect. Moods will rise and dark waters will pass when I take the gavel. Taking another drag, I sit up. The desert bare of any life, no animals, no brush. It’s just dry fucking ground.
Things are about to get a lot fucking better, at least they will be when I eliminate Grudge. If none of my brothers have the balls to do it, I will. Standing with hazy eyes, I grab the shovel and head over to June’s Range Rover. I’m going to drive it back to the club and strip it of any evidence before having it crushed.
Climbing inside her car, that stupid self-help CD starts playing again.
“Jesus, shut the fuck up!” I slam at the buttons on the dash until the radio kicks on. “Thunder” from Imagine Dragons fills the speakers. I prefer something a little heavier, but this will do for now. Better than that shit before.
Taking the back roads my eyes bounce between the windshield and the rearview mirror, smoking that joint has me paranoid as fuck that a cop is going to catch me in a stolen vehicle with blood-stained clothes. My nails are caked with dirt and the smell of metallic is strong. I’m so ready for a hot shower and my bed with a naked Harley smelling of bubblegum. Her pink nipples pressing into me and wetness rubbing on my thigh as I keep her warm. Shifting in my seat, I situated my dick, and take a breath.
I got a lot more shit to do before that can happen though.
A car just ahead stops, it’s taillights illuminating the empty road. A nervous sweat beads my forehead. What if it’s a cop.
“Calm the fuck down,” I tell myself. This Range Rover being nicer than anything I’ve ever driven and doesn’t help with my discomfort. Leather everywhere, the smell of new car scent making me sick. I’ve never been in something so expensive in my life. Big ass motherfucker like me in the front seat is a dead giveaway I stole this damn thing.
Driving past the stopped car, which is not a cop, I exhale a large breath.
Needing a better distraction, I flip the radio until a decent song comes on. “Nightmare” by Avenged Sevenfold plays and I thumb my fingers against the steering wheel. Now we’re talking.
Finally pulling up to the club, a prospect sits outside with a beer in his hand talking to Tickles. She’s wearing a corset and shorts that could pass as underwear. She looks like a hooker hanging by the street. Hanging out the window, I wave my hand to get his attention.
“Open the garage!” I demand.
Noticing my eagerness, he runs to the garage and pulls the door open. The tires squeal as I pull it inside and turn the engine off.
“Where did you find this!” The prospect looks at the Range Rover with admiration. Dumb fuck wouldn’t know what a good-looking car was if it ran over him. My El Camino is better in my opinion.
“Don’t let anyone in here,” I instruct him. Milking his beer, his eyes fuck the expensive car.
“You got it,” he nods.
Heading inside the clubhouse, the wind shifts, and my spine stiffens. Viper is sitting at the bar with an icepack on his head, the back of his shirt spattered with blood. Grudge sits beside him drinking a beer, his green eyes darker than ever as he glares at me. My chest constricts. Something happened.
“Where is Harley?” I demand, looking around frantically.
Viper turns on his stool and looks at me with regret swimming in the depth of his eyes.
“I don’t know, man. We got here, and next thing I know, I’m waking up on the fucking ground?” His statement more of a question than an answer.
I look to Grudge for more of an explanation.
“She did this. She ran off again,” he explains.
“Did what? Hurt Viper?” I shake my head in disbelief. She wouldn’t hurt Viper, no matter who she thinks she is, she would never hurt any one of our members.
“Yes. I told you… She’s sick, son.”
“No, she wouldn’t leave.” I shake my head and look at the door. Not again, she wouldn’t leave without me.
“She did, she’s not well and you know it. The sooner you fucking respect that, the sooner we can get back to club business. Where our focus needs to be.” His words grate on my last nerve.
He reaches over the bar and grabs a plastic bag filled with buds of weed and tosses it at me. I catch it, a puzzled expression on my face.
“What the fuck is this?”
He looks at me like I should know what this is about. “We need better shit.” He looks to Viper, who looks to the floor. His hand drops holding the icepack.
I cannot believe Grudge is wanting to discuss this now when Harley is out there somewhere.
I throw the bag of hash back at him.
“Maybe if you used Bud as our farmer, you wouldn’t have such shit crop,” I growl. It’s the same thing I’ve been telling him. Even I don’t smoke the club’s shit and I can get it for free.
“I told everyone you turned against your kind if this isn’t proof enough—”
I stomp forward and Viper stands in between us.
“Easy,” he mutters.
“Why, because I care about Harley?” My chest pressed against Viper’s hand, I raise my head slowly and glare at Grudge. “If I find out you did something to her… I will kill you,” I threaten. The entire clubhouse goes silent as I just threatened my president. My teeth grind, my jaw tight as I stare at his soulless green eyes.
“Dude,” Viper scorns me. But I don’t back down, I know who the real untrustworthy person is in this room, and it’s Grudge.
“You think I did something to my own blood?” Grudge scoffs, a stupid fucking look crossing his face.
I know he did something to her, and when I find her… I will be back and taking that fucking gavel.
Turning, I slam the doors to the club open and stomp outside. The air is so hot and thick I feel like I’m not even breathing. Without Harley, I’m not.
“Where are you going?” Viper hollers.
“To find my ol’ lady.”
“I’m coming,” he hurries up behind me.
“No, if you do, Grudge will out you,” I try and protect him.
He looks away, blood staining his forehead.
“Man, Harley is like a sister to me. I’m coming with.” He hits me with serious eyes. Bud steps up behind him. His hat lowered, but stance telling me he’s breaking his loyalty to the club too.
“Let’s do it then.” I jerk the car door open.
22
Harley
Little black beads swarm in my eyes, my head heavy and mouth dry. Blinking a few times, a ceiling comes into view. I’m cold and uncomfortable.
I’m definitely not at the club.
Sitting up, I notice I’m not moving. Whimpering, I look down and notice my arms belted to a hard bed, my legs and ankles the same way. Where- where am I?
I look around finding an empty room, the smell of lemon and urine strong. Panic begins to sink into my stomach. I jerk my arms, but they don’t move. Becoming hysterical, I twist my body and kick my legs trying to free myself from the hard bed. The belts around my wrist and ankles are so tight my toes and fingers begin to tingle.
“Hello!” my voice echoes in the empty room. “BENJI!” I scream. “Benji, help!” I cry, staring at the harsh lights from above. They’re so bright my eyes water. Even when I close them you can see them.
“All right little missy, that’ll be enough.” A raspy voice informs. My head whips to the side and I see an older lady in a white nurse gown and a white cap on her gray hair. She looks like she stepped out of a seventies horror movie.
“Who are you? Where am I?” I ask frantically. My mouth dry from breathing and screaming, my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.
“You’re right where you need to be,” she tells me with a tight-lipped smile. She doesn’t make eye contact as she grabs something off a metal tray in the corner, her back facing me. I try and lift my head to see what she’s doing but I’m restrained and can’t lift far off the bed.
“
Can you call my dad, he’s the president of the Shadow Keepers MC. He will get me out of …” I look around. “Whatever this is.”
She turns, a needle in her hand. Her gray eyes and pale skin making her look ghostly.
“Aw yes, the old biker routine.” Her cold blue eyes find mine and a chill strikes me right in the chest.
“Wh-what?” I look at her confused.
“Harley, there is no club and there’s no Benji. I really hoped having you sedated so long you would let that story go.”
“What are you talking about?” I snap, my confusion turning to anger.
She sighs, tilting her head to the side. “Your parents are a part of the Catholic community, and you’re very sick with Dissociative Identity Disorder. That’s why you’re in here, so God can save you.” She smiles, but I’m not smiling.
“No, that’s not true. Benji is real, my club is real!” I stress. “Where am I? Tell me where I am!” I demand.
She rolls her eyes as if I’m crazy and steps over to me. The smell of cigarettes strong, and I notice her fingers are tinged yellow. Her cold hands press against my bare thigh, and I try and jerk away from her. Her clinical touch seeping into my skin and freezing my veins. But it’s no use with these belts holding me in place, I’m at her mercy.
“You’re in a hospital. And Benji is someone you made up in your head. A dream from the sedatives possibly. However, If you keep this up I’ll have to be the bad guy and will have you moved back to the west wing.”
Snarling, I glare at her. “Hospital? West wing?” My face contorts into anguish.
“My life isn’t a dream!” My voice so loud it cracks.
“You’ve never made anything up before, thinking it was real?” She shoots me a cold look that has me holding my breath.
The way she’s so serious, I’m starting to second guess myself. Is the Shadow Keepers something I made up? It’s possible with my condition. I shake my head. No, it’s real. I feel Benji in my heart and soul, and can still hear his voice in my head. I look down at my thumb where I wore Benji’s ring, and it’s bare.